


We are made of Stardust

by pure_vibranium_heart (orphan_account)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Emotional pain, F/M, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff and Smut, My First Smut, Natasha Feels, Natasha Needs a Hug, No Laura Barton, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Romanogers Smut Week, Smut, Sorry Laura fans, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Virgin Steve Rogers, dont be silly wrap that willy, no Brutasha, past psychological and physical torture, remember kids, smut with feels, sorry Brutasha fans, sort of, unprotected sex, what should have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pure_vibranium_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was the sun and she was the moon.<br/>In the other, a part of them bloomed,<br/>And like the sun and the moon,<br/>They chased each other,<br/>Yearning to embrace their lover<br/>Separated by day and night,<br/>And seasons and rain,<br/>Until finally<br/>Finally<br/>They collided,<br/>And the universe stopped to gaze at their<br/>beautiful eclipse,<br/>And in those passing moments,<br/>They were able to feel again,<br/>They learned what love truly felt like. </p><p>_______</p><p>Scarlet Witches sorcery takes its toll. It leaves Natasha restless in Clint Bartons safe house and she retreats to her secret solace beneath a willow tree. There, she finds love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are made of Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the events of Age of Ultron, the night they arrive at Clints safe house. But instead of pouring her heart out to Bruce, she (sort of) pours her heart out to Steve. 
> 
> You will read some altercations to Steve's vision, as well as Nats. Let's just say Age of Ultron was a mess that needs to be tucked under a truck. 
> 
> This is my first post ever. It's also my donation to Romanogers smut week. Please be kind. 
> 
> P.S. Warnings of past psychological torture and past physical torture, mentioned but still. Also hints of past rape.

_He was like the sun,_  
_A symbol of life,_  
_Shining like fire in the sky,_  
_Passion and power possessed his veins,_  
_He inhaled oxygen and exhaled Freedom_

 _She was like the moon,_  
_A part of her hidden in shadows that are So dark, stars can't shine_  
_She is so beautiful, the oceans worship her_  
_She awakens vampires and wolves,_  
_and all the nocturnal creatures with her kiss._

 _In the other, a part of them bloomed,_  
_And like the sun and the moon,_  
_They chased each other,_  
_Yearning to embrace their lover_  
_Separated by day and night,_  
_And seasons and rain,_  
_Until finally_  
_Finally_  
_They collided,_  
_And the universe stopped to gaze at their_  
_beautiful eclipse,_  
_And in those passing moments,_  
_They were able to feel again,_  
_They learned what love truly felt like._

_________________________________________

The moon is full in the sky, a silver beacon, a white diamond. It lulls the meadow to sleep with its pale white shadow, embracing the small wildflowers that stretch and yawn in its arm. Moonlight pours through the cracks of the willow tree and lays beside the Widow, where her withered form sits, her arms hugging her knees and her fiery wild hair curtaining her vacant eyes. In these lonely shadows, she can still feel the red tendrils of sanguine magic sink into her skin and creep into her skull, unplugging all her wires and releasing the painful agony of her past. The pain, the little girls with their lips stitched together to silence their voices and _him_ , the Wolf, who touched away her pain with fingers of metal, they all come back. 

Her thoughts ran deep into her mind, paving rivers that drowned out the footsteps of the careful Soldier that had followed her out of Clint and Natasha's off-the-books safe house and into the haven that had become her bed of wandering, insomniac thoughts. She had felt his presence tickle her skin but Natasha was so absorbed in her nightmares, she hadn't acknowledged him until he called to her in a careful voice.

"Natasha?" His deep baritone awakens her from her tormenting night visions and she stirs, knowing that he has now seen the Black Widow raw and exposed. She addresses him over her shoulder, her scarlet tresses a veil to mask over her anguish,

"Seems as though I've found myself a stalker," she quips in her usual, dark sarcasm. But Steve knows her words are mirrors, only reflections what the world wants to see. She continues in a smoky whisper, "How did you find me?,"

He wants to say that he followed the map of his heart and it led him to her. That every compass points a sharp finger toward her beauty and her pain. Instead, he brushes past the frozen words in his lungs, not wanting to chase her away.

"I saw you slip out the door," he stated, plainly, simply, honestly.

Natasha finally turns to face him, inviting him in with her glassy, transparent eyes. Under crisp moonlight, he can follow the tracks that her tears have left behind and he feels an urgent need to comfort her. Sitting down next to her, he asks her a question that he believes he won't receive an answer to.

"You okay Nat?" He asks and the benevolence in his eyes rains down on her. Natasha tucks a strand of fire behind her ear and brings her eyes to his, breathing in a husky whisper.

"I'm just tired." Tired in the way that she can not sleep because her secrets have voices that keep her awake at night. Tired of living behind the trigger instead of leaping in front of it. Tired of carrying the burden of her past like her own torture stake to crucify herself when the time came. It was the kind of tired that she wanted to fall into and never awaken from again. He heard it all.

"So am I," he adds. He's surprised because he's not the type to admit his pain, to draw undue attention to himself. But her presence disarms his armor and all his fears and inner thoughts spill out before him. "I've been asleep for 70 odd years and yet, I feel like I haven't slept at all." 

70 odd years of sleep doesn't numb the ache in his bones, the heavy anchor in his chest when he turns to look at Peggy and sees nothing but moonlight filling her silhouette of where he dreamed she would be. Sleep doesn't scatter away the crowds that lurk in his mind that has become a cathedral for his past demons to gather. The living legend, Captain America, was a shattered shield, no matter how many times the world convinced him that he was made out of vibranium.

With the moonlight washing over them, Natasha saw all the shrapnel, the broken fragments of pain inscribed in his scarred tissue, how he had been frozen in an hourglass that had sanded him back to his bones. Her fingers brushed against his, cool fingertips grazing across warm, calloused ones and he feels her shoot through his veins.

"What did you see, Steve?" She asked, turning to face him with her legs crossed and her eyes burning straight through his soul. He knew what she meant, the nightmares that intruded his mind with crimson flames, licking, teasing his mind of all the things he had wanted out of life. The clouds of the scarlet sorcery swallows his mind as the images of his vision flash rapidly before his eyes.

Peggy fills the void behind his eyelids, her soft, molten eyes blown full with adoration and excitement at the prospect of home, a home built on weak, imaginary foundations. _We can go home_. Then, he feels metal sink into his shoulder and spin him around, his best friend, his brother, Bucky Barnes wearing that charming smile and crystal eyes, the void where his left arm should be gushes red. _There is no home as long as I am this and you are that._ Metal sprouts from what would have been a stump and silver fingers curl around his throat and force the air out of his lungs.

His eyes snap open.

"I saw Peggy..." He whispered, her name burning onto his lips with all the beauty and strength she embodied. He gingerly swallowed back the pain forming in his throat as the Winter Soldier from his nightmares returned to haunt his tongue, "...and Bucky, The Winter Soldier,"

Natasha felt the winters arms wrap around her at thought of her past lover invading Steve's mind as he had hers.  How would she ever tell him that they had shared the same man at different points in time. Well, when she knew him, he was the remnants of Bucky Barnes tortured soul, a man whose skin was the same but heart was worn to the core. She didn't even know his name, instead he was Vanya, Yakov... Yasha. She shudders, not enough for it to be physically noticed, but enough to to send flames down her spine and coldness to breathe into her lungs. _Maybe it's better if he never knows._

Natasha finds the space between them closing, her body drifting further into his until she can practically feel the heat radiating off his enhanced muscles and supreme body. They're so close in this darkness, bathing in moonlight. It's comforting and its solid and real. She then puts her palm on the surface of Steve's hand and it feels like home again. He feels at home, her fingers stroking through his soul and the red ghosts retreat from his eyes. He welcomes her fingers with his, interlocking them together to share heat and warmth, contact and intimacy.

"What did you see?" He asks and when he hears her suck in a sharp breath through her teeth, he regrets asking, thinking that she will fold within herself and her fingers will coil away and he will lose her touch. Before he can take back the words and replace them with an apology, she speaks.

"I saw the Red Room, where I was raised" she starts and she can't stop now, as though he has cracked something open in her chest and its all spilling out like an avalanche. "In the Red Room, where I was trained, they held a graduation ceremony where I became the Black Widow." she swallows, her voice a low octave that penetrates his soul, "They, uh, they give you one final test to see if you are worthy to be deemed the Black Widow, and then they set you free with blood on your hands and poison in your veins."

Natasha's heart clenches in her chest and she feels the raw skin her fingers had curled around all those years ago, when she had to strangle the closest thing she had to a friend in those red, red walls. _Yelena_. Blonde hair spills through her finger tips and then fades like golden sunlight.

Steve sees the pain crossing her face and squeezes her hand a little tighter.The magic of a witch cracked open all the graves to her ghosts and now their skeletons returned to parade around her. It's painful, he can see it, and he wants to sacrifice his air so that she can breathe and suffocate the demon that sits inside her lungs.

Without thinking, he envelopes her in his strong, muscular arm and she buries the shell of her ear against his heart. He can smell the fragrant vanilla and cherry blossom scent of her hair and it intoxicates him, he wants to breathe her in forever. Right now, he's so comfortable. They had become something of friends, close friends, especially since SHIELD fell, and when the terrors of their minds came to wreck havoc in the corners of their skull late at night, they'd find themselves sitting at the edge of the Avengers tower, soothing each other with light banter, peppered kisses and warm hugs. But right now, it feels different, intimate energy sparking between them and fluttering into the midnight air like fireflies. He could die like this, and that terrifies him.

"People always ask me what I am inspired by. And usually I shrug and say my mother, my home city," Steve gulps as the name stings on his tongue, "...Peggy, or my brother Bucky, the world and the people that fill it. But they are simply half truths. What really inspires me is you, Natasha. You inspire me," _all your flaws and your imperfections. All the cracks in your soul that I want to fill with love. All the warmth in your heart that you perceive as coldness._

Natasha's breath hitches in her throat at the thought of being the source of Captain America's inspiration. She wants to call him a liar, that he is just trying to smooth her aching wounds, but she knows he's telling the truth because he told her so himself. He's _always_ honest.

  
"Steve, I'm not the woman you think I am," _My past is so red, not even the Devil would want my soul. I've killed men, women and children for the sake of a name. Please don't make this difficult for me._

"I know. And I don't care about that. The person who you used to be doesn't define the person who you are now."He stares at her as though he is undressing her soul and she finds herself swirling in his shards of blue, lost in the oceans of his eyes and it calms the hurricane inside of her.

All those months, years, allowing her doubts to bury her. She wasn't sure what she felt for Steve Rogers, but it was something human and that's what terrified her the most. She thinks about retreating from him because she has been cursed with needles in her heart and the closer she gets to someone, the further they sink into her, just to prove that she bleeds. But since SHIELD withered into rubble and stained the sky with smoke, Steve has silenced her demons, his presence a remedy that numbs the anguish that shoots throw her veins. They have developed something that is friendship and romance and right now, she needs what his lips offer, she craves what she has tasted.  So she stays nestled into his side, peering into his soul through the blue haze of his eyes because in his arms she is a different woman.

Their colliding gazes tie a thread between them that shivers and draws them closer toward each other, closing the gap between them where all the things they left unsaid  freezes with the dust. Then suddenly, he is swallowed by Natasha's lips when she grips his face and pulls him in and their lips are dancing together in a kiss, and _oh_ , how her lips taste like home. Like the stars and the moon are pouring into his mouth. He has never tasted anything so beautiful, he can feel the galaxies exploding in his veins.

Time crawls to a stop as the world dissolves around them and Natasha wants more of him, she needs more of him so she brings her arms to hug his neck and pull him closer into her. They kiss and reality melts away, hands roam, fingers are fire stones across his body that ignite a warmth inside of him. They kiss until the only taste she knows are his lips and she can feel him simmers beneath her skin.

When they break away, Steve forgets how to breathe because his breath is on her lips and her eyes are dark and hooded with lust. He looks at her cautiously, despite his growing arousal and his hunger for the taste of her on his tongue, he doesn't want to take her without her consent. Natasha's swollen lips curl at their edges, her voice low with conviction and certainty.

"It's ok Steve. I want this, I want you."

Steve is still not convinced, he still feels unsure and Natasha feels her heart explode within its cage, she feels things she hasn't felt for decades. Slender fingers gently push against the centre of his chest, the spot reserved for the star embroidered onto his uniform, and he surrenders beneath her touch, lying in his back as she straddles his hips. Slowly, she pulls the satin from her body up over her head to reveal the planes of her bare skin and it is as though she bathes in moon dust because she glows with an iridescence that the stars would envy. He will never learn how to breathe again.

"Natasha," he chokes and gulps, "I've never done this before," he confesses, his eyes wide with awe and embarrassment. She thinks about all the intruders who have forced themselves into her body, the two lovers who wiped the cracks on her skin away, and she realizes that she has never made love in such a raw and intimate way either. She is a virgin when it comes to the art of love and her fingers trace a pattern across his jawline as she leans in close to his ear and breathes into his soul.

"Neither have I." Her words fan over his earlobe, weaved in her hot breath and it sends electricity down his spine that rattles through his body. The soft petals of her lips graze across his well defined jaw until they meet his lips once again and she dives into them, kissing his doubts away. Her fingers snake beneath his shirt and push back the fabric concealing his sculptured form, divine muscles flexing beneath her touch.

Steve breaks away, always asking for permission to touch her, to feel her. She grants him it with the low sparkle in her eyes that sets his heart afire. Gently, he flips her over onto her back, planting kisses down her neck, tasting her skin as he continues his pursuit down her body to the swell of her breasts, the delicate skin smooth under his lips. He curls his lips over her hardened left nipple and sucks a throaty moan out of his lover as he devotes his soul to her, his tongue flicking and swirling in circular motions. He kneads the other, fingers fondling and tugging gently at the porcelain flesh in his palm. Natasha's fingers gently scrape roads through his hair in approval of his worship to her body, she is addicted to the way he makes her body sing for him.

They fall into each other, kissing away the barriers of their clothes until they're naked anatomies match their naked souls, drunk on each others lips as the moon blesses their love making. His lips whisper _'perfect,'_ across her body because that is what he saw. Perfection. And for once in her red and black stained world she saw a rainbow of colours paint her skies that had once rained salty tears onto her cheeks.

He travels down the roads of her body, mapping each secret place out, exploring the edges of her skin where her scars have knitted together. He gently kisses each one, loving them because they are part of her and her story, puckered marks in the stream of her life.

Steve follows her rivers, her curves, listening to the melody of her lips until he meets her flower, the petals of her womanhood moist and blossoming for his touch and his love. She barely has time to breathe before he delves into her folds, exploring her walls and she cries, her body jerking beneath him. Steve withdraws, concern in his eyes as though he's hurt her. She laughs, stroking his face with gentle fingers,  reassuring him and he flashes her that boyish grin before returning his tongue to her damp sex.Steve has no idea what he's doing but he keeps going because he loves it and he could spend an eternity tasting her, listening to her moans strumming on her lips and wafting into the universe that devours their moans.

She is close and she can feel it coiling in her lower body but she wants him, not his tongue, filling the space inside of her that greedily sucks his tongue. So she drags his face up to meet hers and crashes her lips against his, swallowing her juices that smile on his lips.

"I want you," she breathes when his lips are spilling over her collarbone and she can feel his manhood twitch on her thigh with anticipation. His eyes betray his desire and he seeks her permission, he knows his strength but is unsure of his boundaries and the last thing he wants is to hurt her.

"Are you sure?" He asks, reciting a scene from their past and Natasha smirks, leaning forward, she purrs into his ear.

"Yeah, It'll be fun"

A knowing grin flashes on his face before the inches between them close in. And then they collide. The sun and the moon finally eclipse.

A thunderstorm clashes in their mouths when their lips seal together, a mixture of their moans. He pushes in, filling her completely, like a gun to a holster and she whimpers.  Their bodies whisper secrets to each other, scar flush against scar, the constellations of their anatomies sliding together. The pace quickens, desperate and passionate and she clings to his body, squeezing and grabbing as her name floods from his lungs and into her ear. He thrusts and thrusts inside of her, each movement pushing them closer to the edge, their heartbeats hammering within their chests like the flutters of a doves wings trapped within a cage and she chants his name like a scripture. He falls more and more in love with her each second until they reach that peak they both have been yearning for and he groans, low and gravelly in a voice of complete adoration.

"God, I love you," and she both freezes and burns as their climax rolls over them. The high that has them leaping over the moon and dancing with the Stars, her walls quaking around him as he spills into her. Every muscle, every bone in her body relaxes around him as though he were a stone in her river, water gushing around the edges.

They lay there in the present, coupled together as their heart slows and their veins sizzle. He looks at her and watches as the moonlight crawls over her shoulder blades and snakes through her crimson tendrils. He admires her beauty, her love, her glow. He wants to paint her, to put pen to paper and translate the image of her on a blank canvas, but he would never be able to justify how perfect she looks at this moment. He brings his lips to kiss her cheek and its damp from her tears and his stomach caves in.

Oh god.

"Natasha, oh god, did-Did I-"

"No." Natasha silences his sentence with her finger pressed against his lips, "No, sometimes it's just...emotional,"

Emotional. That's all she could say. Because when Steve Rogers told her that he loved her mere moments ago, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered through her rib cage and filtered into the holes in her heart. Because maybe, maybe she loved him too. And a part of her that was a hurricane, vicious and fierce, wanted to collapse into herself and shield herself away. But the other part of her, like gentle rain, questioned why it was such a bad thing for her to love him. 

Her words must have had a voice because Steve was looking at her with that patient look in his eye, that one that set the Stars alight and the sun on fire.

"It's okay Natasha, I will wait for you, I will wait forever if I have to."

She lifts her head to peer into his eyes and the effect she has on him is revealed to her, the way she steals his breath away with the emerald of her eyes, dancing with life and his eyes wander into them and off the edge of the world. Sighing against his lips, the corners of Natasha's mouth pull into a soft and endearing smile,

"You are a very patient man, Steve Rogers."

_________________________

**Author's Note:**

> This would not have been possible without the loving guidance of heyfrenchfreudiana and spanglecap. This is my token of appreciation. Thank you so much. Words fail me. Literally. 
> 
> Also to the girls in the Romamogers line group. Gosh I've been an introverted asshole. You lovely ladies inspire me greatly. Thank you.


End file.
